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I can only speak for my side with a deep set honesty. Any other statements are from what I observed and were told. My name is Jordan Stuart. I had been married for roughly a year when the worst day happened. I am a shitty husband, father and provider. Between lying and an uncontrollable porn addiction, my life had dove head first into hell, or so I thought. My wife, a strong willed woman who is the smartest person I had ever known, did not put up with my shit. Loyalty meant no lies and no adultry. And while at the time I disagreed with porn being adultry, she firmly believed it was. And looking back, I agree. Just getting off to images of people means sharing some part of you with them or wanting to take something from them. Sharing in a moment, even if you did not sleep or make physical contact. It was cheating on a mental or emotional level, and if you got off to it, then it was also a physical level. With all that bwing said, good times were rare and being civil in our home was a luxury. She was loyal to a fault and I was disloyal almost constantly.
We had been dating for three months when her and her son moved in. I was still too young to think things through and found myself being rash and scared of consequences. So I would lie all the time. After three months of living together, we got married in a courthouse with a few friends in attendance and no family since we were at odds with each of our families. We were wed in August. After three and a half months of unprotected sex and too many lies later, we became pregnant. Her son would be an older brother.
The pregnancy was rough in that one bedroom house. Her son slept in the bedroom while we had our bed in the dining room which was connected to the living room via a very wide opening. They might as well have been one room. While my wife was pregnant, she could not eat without puking and the smell of cooking would cause nausea. She also had no ability to self regulate her temp. When you can see your breath while you're inside, it is really cold. It was... Rough to say the least. Then we decided toward the end of the pregnancy to move onto the bedroom and her son slept in the living room, well most of the time. He would tend to sleep in our room and I cant blame him, lonely sucks. Then it happened.
POP
A frantic running around and a drive the hospital later, she was in labor up in one of the rooms at the hospital. Her son's dad came and picked him up while this was happening. In the room, she was grunting and bearing with pain, but not a yell or scream escaped those pained lips.
So, I am ashamed to admit that during the painful and agonizing labor... I fell asleep. When I get stressed or anxious, my body decides to react by making me tired. The more tension and anxiety, the more tired. So as my first born was trying to enter the world, I was snoring on couch next to the bed where my wife was fighting for our child's life. I have been told that more than one nurse would have been overjoyed to give me a reason for my own stay. One even volunteered to make it look like an accident. I awoke to sun light and my wife yelling my name.
"Get the fuck up and get over here!" At this point, she was holding onto a towel they had wrapped around one of the rails while there was an oxygen mask on her face. Everytime she had a contraction, the heart rate of the unborn baby would drop and nobody was sure why it was happening, or at least I do not remember anyone saying anything.
Then it happened, the doctor was delivering the baby, and as it came out, it looked gray and covered in blood. "What is that?" I had asked, which dumbfounded everyone. To me, it looked like an egg. I will tell you now, after sleeping through the labor and asking a dumb question, nobody had any decent thoughts concerning me. As it turnes out, the embolical cord had wrapped around this child. In the end, the baby was saved and healthy and so was his mother.
I chuckle when I remember how he peed on me the first time I changed his diaper. My shoulder had started warming up and my wife was chuckling. He was a beautiful boy, my first born, my son. His features where the perfect mix of his parents.
The first few weeks were toughest for me. She took care of him while I was working and so from when I got home to when I left for work, he was my responsibility. I failed in everyway. I couldn't stay awake at night when he would eat. I couldn't keep him on a steady sleep schedule ever. He did not even want to be held me, but I still adored him. My son meant the world to me.
But no matter how much I loved him, his mother loved him unmeasurably more. They spent every moment together when he was awake. When she had to pick her son up for school, he was the backseat copilot. He would watch when she would relax for a little bit to play games. She taught him his name by the time he was two months old and how to blow rasberries. He constantly smiled at her and she smiled back. Nap time was tough because she could not help but to play with him while he was laying in his crib, listening to shows or music. Her love and the happiness they shared go beyond words.
Her son loved his brother with all his heart, playing with him as much as possible. Sharing his thoughts and what he was learning. He was even chosen by our baby over me, and was only topped by his mother. The older boy also was the only one to make him laugh, and what a wonderful laugh it was.
One day while my son's mother, my wife, was out shopping by herself, which happened very rarely, I found the only thing we had in common. He liked my music. My lullaby to him was to softly sing 'Duality' by Slipknot. Or if he was trying to relax in my arms at night I would sing a verse I made up.
Under mountain tops
The their caves of stone
The dwarves all sing and play
Making shiny rings
And magic toys
The dwarves and sing and play
Digging deep in mines
Echoing songs
The dwarves all sing and play
The dwarves all sing and play
He was born in late August and the joy he brought amidst my uncontrollable frustions in being still a new parent who was to harsh to my own stepson and disloyal to my wife and the arguments was without measure. So much yelling and breaking of things that the poor boy grew used to sleeping in a loud volatile home. However, he was spared from anything ever being directed towards him. Anyone of us would have killed anybody who even looked cross eyed at him.
It was in November during the harvest that, with major prompting from my wife, I connecting with my father. Him and my Grand Parents were the only people I had no beef with. At one point, while I was working, my Dad came by and gave us a bag of fresh picked corn. My son was in love with his Grandfather and my Dad loved and coveted him back. From what I was told when my dad gave his youngest grandson back to his mother and turned to leave, my son reached out for him and fussed. He did not do that to anybody except his mom and maybe his brother. Another time, my saint of a wife also let my brother and his family meet their new nephew and cousin. We even did a very rare visit my grandparents. My God was that baby loved by all who saw him.
Christmas time was close when I recieved the news from my wife. Picture the scene. I am told there is a surprise and to close my eyes. In my curious hands is sat a dvd for my favorite movies and something is taped to the back. Another positive pregnancy test! We are expecting again! What joy shot from us that night.
Now it is the day before Christmas Eve and her son is going with his Dad for Christmas. We will wait until he returns to open gifts the weekend after. What great anticipation. It was right before he left that he made his baby brother laugh oh so hard. God bless my wife for recording it. Of course I watched it when I got home from work. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are nice and we have a pleasent dinner.
